The Very Dirty Martini

Oh, man! Brace yourself, because this is a long one!

Where to begin??? Where did I leave off? On Thursday night, I think...

Okay-- so, after AA on Thursday I came home and played some God of War. I texted Narc, but he didn't write back and I was a little anxious about that. I made myself go to bed at around 1:00 AM, but my sleep was restless. (Why? Because I'm a little crazy). Anyway, at around 5:00 AM, a text message woke me up. Obviously, it was Narc.

"Just back in, call when up," he wrote.

So, I answered him.

"I'm always up," I said. (Not true. I had been fast asleep. Anyway...) "Made it to Athens town square. Late though and I have lots to do tomorrow. Will try to call when I can."

"Am up too," he replied. "Come down here?"

"It's too late. Tomorrow perhaps?"

"Would come to you, but have no cash."

At that, I called him. He was pretty drunk. I told him that I had to go back to bed. He agreed and we hung up. At this point, it was nearly 6:00 AM. I got one more "dirty" text from him and that was that.

The next morning, I woke up exhausted. (If you recall, I also got very little sleep on Wednesday night, as I was grading midterms and went out to Cheers with Narc and NDN). I set off in the early afternoon to attend a writing workshop run by a professor in American Intellectual History/Sociology. I actually owe him a paper. The workshop was helpful and inspiring. Afterwards, I met B for lunch at a restaurant nearby. We had a really nice time talking life, philosophy and everything in between. From there, I ran into Old Navy to pick up a pair of jeans and then headed to the Upper West Side to meet my sponsor.

On my way, I sent Narc a text: "Hope you're well rested. My writing workshop was good. Oh-- and I remembered my med. Yay. Anyway, have fun tonight. Call later."

(Narc had plans that night to go out for drinks with his friend R-- an architect who was leaving town the next day).

"Ugh. Don't know if I can take another night out with the boys!" he answered. "We shall see. Call you later."

Cherubino was waiting for me in Starbucks when I arrived. We read through the Big Book and talked about Step 11. From there we headed over to our group's Friday night meeting. It was a step meeting focusing on Step 7.

The meeting touched me on the inside and left me feeling odd. Sometimes, those spiritual moments are uncomfortable. They call on me to live my life on a higher plane. It sometimes feels like a tall order. I become aware of my own laziness and fear like never before.

So, there was a funny feeling in my chest as I cabbed back to the East Side that night. But, I settled in at home, and tried to get to bed at a decent hour. I was tired beyond belief. Not wanting a repeat of the previous night, and knowing that Narc had plans to go out drinking, I shut off my ringer. At 1:45 AM, just as I was crawling under the covers, I picked up the phone to put it on the night table. At that very moment, Narc's number flashed on the screen.

"That's so weird!" I exclaimed as I answered the phone.

"What?"

"My ringer was off, but I looked at the phone at the exact moment you called."

"Guess we're just starting to share the same brain," he laughed. "They say that can sometimes happen to people who spend enough time together-- that they end up in sync."

"Narc-- that's a scary thought! A brain that's half me and half you??"

"Seriously-- it would be half zen gardens and half sex, drugs and self-abuse."

"I wouldn't want to see that," I laughed.

In any case, he asked me to come down. I was really tired, but I was also relieved that he called and I wanted to see him. I threw on some clothes and made a pit stop at the deli. At that point, it was 2:00 AM.

"Do I still have an orange by you?" I asked.

"One orange here. Just for you."

"K. Am on my way."

Now, this is where things started to crumble for me...

When I arrived, he was watching "Trainspotting." He was visibly drunk and was still drinking-- giant gin-martinis that he gulped down quickly. We started talking about film making and various directors and he referred to the movie "Sunshine" that had been on TV the other day, and its horrible "Third Act."

"What exactly is the 'third act'?" I asked.

Somehow, his answer to that question twisted in a million directions. Narc started talking about Evolution and then about Rupert Sheldrake and the "Hundredth Monkey Theory." In any case, the longer we talked, the more he drank. And then at some point, this came out of his mouth:

"I don't know if I tell you too much, Hyde," he slurred. "But I'm just gonna put it out there-- I saw LA-Girl tonight. I hung out with her for a little bit."

"What? When?"

I felt like I had just been stabbed in the stomach.

He went on and explained that his friend R blew him off, and that LA-Girl "just happened" to call. So, she came over, they had a few drinks and they hung out. He told me that she performed an Ophelia monologue for him and that she was terrible. He also said that she passed out on the floor.

"Right over there!" he said, pointing to a specific place on his floor rug.

"She seems to have a habit of passing out every time you see her," I said dryly. I was clearly pissed off.

"It's not a big deal, Hyde," he kept insisting. "I didn't fuck her! I didn't fuck her. And you wanna know why?? You wanna know why I didn't fuck her?"

He was starting at me with those drunk, bleary eyes and he smelled like the booze.

"I don't know, Narc," I sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me! Tell me why I didn't fuck her!"

"I don't know... Because she has herpes?"

"There's condoms for that," he laughed.

"Ew. Don't do that and then try to come have sex with me," I said.

"So, tell me why I didn't fuck her."

"Because she didn't want to fuck you?"

"Nope. Because I didn't want to fuck her!" he exclaimed.

"I highly doubt that," I said. "Then, why are you hanging out with her?"

"I love her, that's why," he said. "She's cute, and I love LA-Girl."

"You LOVE her? What the fuck are you talking about? "

"I don't love, love her," he tried to explain.

(Hadn't we had this conversation before?)

"Narc! You just told me that she's dumb, she's a bad actress, you don't want to fuck her... You don't love her, so I don't know why you're saying that. To tell you the truth, it's not clear what you even like about her, except for the fact that she's 'cute.'"

"She has good energy," he said, with a drunken grin. "And I can talk to her about things I can't talk to you about."

"Like what?"

"Well, acting. Films, that sort of thing."

"Narc, you don't get it. I mean, really-- I don't talk to you about major things that I'm passionate about-- music, history, whatever. I can talk to Bezoukhoff about history all day long. It doesn't mean I go around saying that I LOVE him."

"I don't know Hyde," he laughed. "You wanna know what I think?"

"About what?"

"I think you're jealous."

He sat back, content with himself and his proclamation.

"What the fuck?!" I exclaimed. "Of COURSE I'm jealous!"

"You're jealous because I"m telling you she's this cute, blond, actress, and you're jealous."

"Narc, you don't get it," I sighed. "I'm not jealous of her. I don't know her. I wish her well. This really has nothing to do with her or what she is. But I AM jealous of the fact that you're flirting with her and have this kind of interest in pursuing her. I'm jealous of how you feel about her."

"Well, we're not dating, Hyde. We're not 'together' like that. And I'm going to have LA-Girl in my life now."

"This is not about LA-Girl!" I insisted. "This is about me and you. I don't give a shit about her. This is about the fact that we have no definition and it's not working anymore. I love you; I see you almost every night; you say that you love me; we're friends; it's been nearly four years. What IS this? Why aren't we dating?"

(I could hardly believe those words had come flying out of my mouth).

He didn't say anything.

"Why AREN'T we dating?" I repeated. "What is it? Why aren't we 'together'?"

He was, once again, slow to respond.

"I don't know, Hyde," he said. "I didn't know you were available for that."

"What?!?" (This was now laughable.) "Narc! Are you fucking kidding me??"

"No. I'm not kidding you," he said, grabbing onto my arm and staring at me, as if daring me to argue.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. I TOLD you in November, 2004 that I wanted to be with you and I didn't want to date anyone else. I've made myself clear about that time and again over the past few years."

He didn't really answer.

"Look," I went on. "What if I were your friend-- not me, but another friend. And what if I came to you and said that there's a guy that I'm in love with, that I've been seeing for four years, but he won't be in a relationship with me and he sees other women periodically. What would you tell me to do?"

"I'd tell you to reel him in," he said. "To be crafty and find a way to win him over."

I stared at him dumbfounded. "Are you saying that's a possibility?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you saying it's possible to 'reel you in?'"

"No," he said. "You want to have children and I don't."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not the knight that you deserve, Hyde."

Now, I really did start to laugh.

"That's such a fucking cop out! I don't want a knight. I'm not looking to cast someone in a fucking script."

"Well, then, fuck you!" he said, defensively.

He kept trying to turn the conversation back to LA-Girl and the fact that he hadn't "fucked her." He kept wanting to tell me that I was just dramatic and paranoid.

"She offered herself like four times," he said.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, bitterly. "I just don't know where I stand with you."

"You don't know where you stand with me?"

"No. I don't. Why don't you tell me? What am I to you? What do you even want?"

He shook his head.

"I don't know either," he said.

"Yeah, that's the problem."

There was nothing left to say. I was exhausted beyond words. I just put my head in my hands and pressed on my eyes.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"No, really--what are you feeling?"

"It doesn't matter what I'm feeling, Narc."

"Yes it does."

"No, it DOESN'T" I shouted. "What I feel doesn't matter because you won't change a thing based on my feelings. You're basically telling me that LA-Girl is going to be around regardless of how I feel. You have NEVER cared about my feelings."

"I just don't see what the big deal is! I'm not dating her!"

"I don't want to have to feel insecure like this. Living in fear is poisoning me. It's taking away from the rest of my life."

"What are you afraid of?"

"That you are going to disappear! That at any moment you might disappear!"

"That will never happen," he smiled. "I will never leave you . I love you. What, do you think I'm just going to send you a text someday saying that it's over and I'm gone?" He started to laugh as if that were the most ridiculous idea.

"Don't laugh, Narc. It's happened before."

"When?"

"When? Um-- there has always been someone else. That girl you went to Dominican Republic with, the month after I met you. Then in December-- the 18th to be exact-- you texted me: Nothing more for us really. Then, there was PopStar in January, 2005. Then, you met the Exhibitionist and texted me on Easter, 2005 that you were dating someone and were 'off the radar' and to 'Be well.' And even this latest time with PopStar-- you texted me that she was back from Russia and had moved in, only after I was bewildered about why you were ignoring me. There have been so many episodes. Do you remember that day you kicked me out of your place when the Exhibitionist came over? July, 2005?"

"Yeah, I remember," he said in a low voice. "You have a long memory."

"That's because it fucking HURT. It still hurts!" I had to hold back tears. "It all hurt. But there's no point in all of this now. I just want to go to sleep now."

"No, let's finish this," he said.

"I want to go to bed. I'm done. And I'm too tired to think clearly."

"Are you a coward, Hyde? Finish it. Let's finish talking about this."

"There's no point!" I insisted. "Why am I still here? Why am I here? Why am I here?" (I was talking to myself more than anything else. I really felt like I was about to lose my mind.) "I can't do this, Narc. I'm going to bed."

We talked in circles for a little longer, but finally, I just ignored him and walked into the bedroom. He went to pull something out of his closet. It was a "dirty martini" costume that he bought for Laurie in October.

"Are you joking? I'm not putting that thing on!" I said, pushing past him, towards the bed.

"Put it on, Hyde."

"I'm not putting it on. You bought it for Laurie! I'm not going to put on something that you bought for Laurie."

I felt so disgusted at this point. And he was clearly drunk and not making much sense. I climbed into bed. He climbed in after me. It was nearly 6:00 AM.

"I love you," he said, as he pulled me close.

I didn't have it in me to respond, think or feel. I just had to go to bed.

"I don't exist," I said.

He didn't answer.

Two and a half hours later, the alarm went off. I had to get up early, as I had plans to meet my mom and BigSis on Long Island to go to a "corsetier." BigSis is pregnant and needs new bras, and I also am in between sizes, as I've lost so much weight. (Thank god, I didn't go down the cup size I thought-- I am still the same size there, only down a few sizes across the back). My head was pounding and I chugged two red bulls, which didn't help with the headache, but made my stomach burn. It felt like the old days-- I haven't felt hungover in so long. I was also emotionally wrecked. But I tried to close my eyes and focus and pray. I prayed for the ability to be "of service" to my mom and my sister and to stay present with them and not to slip into my usual "morbid reflection."

I managed to have a decent time out there. BigSis and I each got two new bras and we ate lunch at Ruby Tuesday's. Then my mom drove me back to the train. I got back to my place at around 2:15 PM. I don't know why (fear? insecurity?), but I sent Narc a text.

"I am literally going to collapse from exhaustion," I wrote. "Think I only slept 10 hrs. combined since Wed. Just getting back from LI. Feel horrible. Bet you're still asleep. There's more jealousy for you..."

My head was still throbbing and I felt feverish. My forehead was hot and my hands were clammy and cold. My joints ached. I was surprised when he wrote me back:

"Just up an hour ago. Sleep woman! Sounds like you're running on fumes. Can come over and get some rest if you like..."

"Have a rehearsal and then need AA," I said. "So, busy til 10:00-ish. Check in later... if I haven't yet, in my fatigue, departed this world for the next."

"Do call after AA then."

"K. Will do. But in any case, will need bed relatively early tonight."

I did my best to revive myself (or at least revive my makeup) before turning around and heading out to a rehearsal for Sunday night's recital. As you know, Cherubino studies with the same voice teacher, and she was already there at the pianist's apartment when I arrived. I ran through my aria in a half stupor. God knows how any decent sounds came out!

At around 4:15 PM, we left the pianist's place in Carnegie Hill and started to walk down Second Avenue, stopping to poke around a Good Will store. I got a dress and a sweater for practically nothing, and Cherubino tired on a really funny denim jumper. Anyway, we eventually made it back to my apartment where we read through the chapter that brought me to complete my 12th Step. It felt really good. Afterwards, we watched The Medium, which Cherubino brought over on DVD. It was a very strange and creepy opera. Afterwards, I couldn't get one particular tune out of my mind:

Give away my clothes; burn all my school books
Burn! Burn! Give away! Give away!

Anyway, Cherubino took off at around 8:00 PM. I was literally about to drop. She was trying to show me a picture of the world's ugliest dog, but I could hardly laugh. I couldn't focus on anything. I wandered into my bedroom and flopped onto the bed on my stomach. Not five minutes later, the phone rang. It was Narc.

"What's up?"

"I left you a message, Hyde," he said.

I could barely understand him. He was so drunk that he could hardly form his words.

"What are you doing so wasted at 8:00 PM?!" I exclaimed.

"I don't know... it just happened," he said.

"Huh? What did you do today? You only woke up a few hours ago!"

"I just started drinking when I woke up," he said. "I don't know why. It was just there. Hair of the dog and all that, I guess," he laughed.

He wanted me to come down to see him.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Yes, we do need to talk," I agreed. "But I don't want to talk to you like this. I want to talk to you when you're sober. Besides, I'm so tired, I have to go to bed super soon."

"That's okay," he said. "We don't have to talk about anything unpleasant, then. I just want you to be here."

"Okay," I agreed.

(I don't know what I'm doing. Into the lion's den?)

I called StarGazer before I left home. We talked for about 40 minutes and she convinced me to reconsider my decision to go. But, I ended up heading down there anyway.

When he answered the door, he looked SO much worse than I had imagined. His eyes were bloodshot through and through. But his whole face looked bloated and red and his hair was sticking up in every direction.

"What the hell happened to you Narc?!"

"I don't know," he snorted. "Guess it just hit me really hard today. Was out with R at Blaue Gans. Drank the beer in a boot after those martinis. Haven't eaten in a few days..."

He stumbled over to the couch. I could see where he had banged into a wall and knocked down some shelves.

We were both sitting on the couch now. I don't remember what we talked about. Narc pushed my legs apart. I thought he was going to try to pull my jeans off or something. But he didn't. He just wedged himself inbetween me and put his head down on my chest. He wrapped his arms around me and just lay there, with me cradling his head. I didn't really know how to feel.

"I love you," he said.

He was so drunk, though.

He started trying to raise up my shirt. So, I pulled it off myself. He was kissing my breasts, but then he started to suck on them, still cradled there, like he was a baby or something. It was really strange and again-- I didn't know how to feel. It was like he was nursing. He stayed like that for some time. I didn't move or do anything.

This is the most fucked up relationship!! I thought.

It's all I could think. I don't understand anything anymore.

After a little while like that, he sort of rolled back onto his side of the couch. I put my shirt back on. Neither of us said anything for a while. Then, he finally broke the silence.

"So, do you want to talk, Hyde?"

"No. I don't want to have that conversation tonight."

He flopped onto his back and closed his eyes. His breathing grew heavy.

"Narc? Are you asleep."

"Not asleep, not asleep," he said, barely coherent. "Just napping."

"If you're going to nap, let's just go to bed," I said. "I'm tired too."

It was just about 10:00 PM. His house was a mess-- way messier than usual. The ashtray on the coffee table was filled with dozens and dozens of stamped out cigarettes. And the orange peel in the bowl that I had left there the night before was still sitting there. And then I noticed something else-- a stupid, plastic, olive shaped ring from that "dirty martini" costume. It was right there on the coffee table, next to the orange peel.

What the fuck was it doing there? The costume was new and sealed the previous night. Who the fuck tried it on?

I became convinced of the fact that LA-Girl had come over again that afternoon.

"Why is that ring on the table?" I asked him.

"Oh-- that's from when LA-Girl tried the costume on."

"She was here today?" (I could barely breathe).

"No, she wasn't here today!" he insisted. "It's from last night when she was here. She was over here last night."

"That ring wasn't there last night," I said.

"What can I tell you, Hyde?"

"You can tell me why that ring wasn't there last night and yet it IS there tonight."

"Guess I just put it there when I was cleaning up."

"You didn't clean anything up."

The rest of the costume was still in the package leaning against the opposite wall, but it was folded into the package differently.

I felt so sick.

"I bought that costume for Laurie," he said.

"Yeah, I know." I felt like a robot. "We talked about it last night. Don't you remember taking it out of the closet last night and telling me to try it on?"

"I told LA-Girl to try it on, but it was too big on her. It was falling off her."

"So, she was here."

"No, it was last night."

I didn't answer. I just moved into the bedroom, undressed and climbed into bed.

"Take a shower with me," he said.

"I'm not going to take a shower with you."

I'm glad he gave up on the idea, because I seriously thought he might slip and hit his head. Narc followed and pulled me in tight against his chest. I still couldn't breathe. I felt like my whole body was about to shut down. I was SO fucking tired-- physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I thought I might die. I don't even know how to describe my state of mind. I just felt feverish.

I tried to calm myself and just get myself to sleep. I tried counting backwards from 1000. But I couldn't shake this-- any of it. Involuntarily, I jumped.

"What's wrong?" he murmured.

"I can't do this, Narc," I whispered.

"Do what? What's wrong."

"This whole thing. She was here today. You're LYING to me. That ring was not on the table."

"God, Hyde! What's wrong with you? It was from last night."

"You told me everything about last night!" I insisted. I felt like I was on the verge of hysteria though. "You said that she did an Ophelia monologue and passed out. You didn't mention the costume. Besides, it was sealed when you took it out of the closet. And that ring wasn't on the table."

"I told you what I did today," he said. "I woke up; I texted you; I drank some martinis here; then I met R over at Blaue Gans. Then I called you again. When did I see her?"

"She could have come over here after you texted me and had martinis with you. She could have gone to Blaue Gans with you."

I was sure of it. I just so positive of it.

"Enough of your feeble-minded woman's intuition!" he said.

"Don't start getting misogynistic on me, Narc."

"I WILL get misogynistic on you because this is DUMB! Your woman's intuition isn't right about everything!"

"It's not intuition, it's deduction! There are facts-- the costume was sealed last night, and now it's not. The ring wasn't there last night and now it is. And you told me that LA-Girl tried the costume on. Put that all together, and it's obvious that she was over here today."

"She wasn't."

"I don't believe you," I whispered. "But it doesn't even matter. This is not about her. I don't give a SHIT about her. It's about me and you."

We were both silent. I closed my eyes and tried to will myself back to sleep, but I couldn't. My body started to shake. I don't know what happened to me, but I was literally shaking uncontrollably and my teeth were chattering.

"What's wrong with you? Are you okay?" Narc asked.

He sounded genuinely concerned and half sat up.

"I don't know. I'm going to break. I'm going to break," I stammered. "I can't do this anymore. I'm going to break."

He pulled me close again and wrapped his arms around me, as if that could stop the shaking. But it didn't work. My body was still shaking uncontrollably, seemingly divorced from my mind.

"I'm going to break," was all I could say.

"I won't let you break, darling," he said. "I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe."

And then, it exploded, everything that the brick wall in my heart has been keeping locked in for all these years. I started to cry hysterically. I was sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe, so I tried harder to find a breath. And then it started to turn into a full fledged panic attack. I haven't had one of those in quite some time. But, I felt my face start to tingle. I was dizzy and nauseated and my whole body started to sweat. I still couldn't stop the sobbing, but there suddenly seemed to be no more tears. It was like some sort of dry heaving cry. But, I didn't feel sad anymore either. I felt completely detached, like I was watching this whole scene out of body, floating on the ceiling.

"Shh... calm down," my floating self seemed to say to my wretching body.

"It's okay, it's okay," Narc kept whispering. He kissed my hair. "I love you. You're safe," he said over and over.

He kissed my face and found the tears there. I think it made him kiss me more fervently-- as if he were moved that much more that I had tears for him, that he had been able to elicit such a response from me.

"I love you, honey. I love you," he kept saying. "I'm just glad you're sleeping with me tonight-- that you're safe with someone who loves you. It's all okay."

I tried to listen to him, but my floating, detached, self was bitterly reminding the rest of me that he's a liar and that I'm anything BUT safe when I'm with him. I kept shaking and chattering until, despite everything, I somehow managed to let him soothe me before I passed out from sheer exhaustion.

It was a frightening episode. And it's how I know that I'm done.

We slept at least 12 hours. The next morning he had an awful hangover and crawled over me to get water. We both went back to sleep. When we woke up again, we had sex. It was as if everything had been erased. But, it hadn't. I couldn't forget it. It was right there, knotted in my stomach.

"I really did myself in yesterday," Narc laughed. "I went out to Blaue Gans with R and drank one of those giant boots of beer."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "Don't you remember going over your day in detail several times last night?"

"Oh, right-- yeah, sure," he said.

Eventually he got out of bed and went to check whatever websites he always checks in the morning.

"Narc, we need to talk," I said. I was still laying in the bed.

"Don't you think we've talked enough about all this?"

"No. I mean-- nothing is resolved. And I need space from you. I can't do this."

"What does that mean?" he asked. "You want to take a month apart? Two months? What's the point of that, Hyde?"

"I don't want time apart," I said. "Don't you understand? It's not what I want. But the point is, it will give me time to get over you!" I answered. "I just can't keep hurting like this anymore."

"WHAT is all this drama about? Why are you always making things so fucking melodramatic?"

"I'm not being dramatic. It just hurts."

"Oh, it hurts?! It hurts! That's not dramatic?"

"No, it's not! It hurts in a thousand ways every day and I don't say anything. I am so NOT dramatic about this. And I'm not being dramatic now. I'm just trying to be practical."

"I don't know what to tell you Hyde," he said with a scowl. He was getting defensive now. "If it hurts you so much-- thousands of times every day-- then, maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore."

I don't know if he meant it as a threat. Usually I back down as soon as he says something like that.

"Maybe. I want to see you, Narc. I don't want space. But I can't go on like we are. I mean-- what is this? What are we doing? Who am I to you? I don't ever know where I stand with you."

"I thought we were having fun," he stammered. "Isn't that what we're doing? Having fun with each other? Isn't that how we both defined it?"

"Maybe that was true four years ago. Maybe that was true when I was getting wasted and coming to fuck you at 4:00 AM twice a week. But it's not fun anymore! I love you; you say you love me. I see you almost every day. This has been a long time, Narc. I'm invested in you. I'm giving you everything I would give to a boyfriend. But I'm not getting anything in return-- no security, no saftey, nothing..."

He got back into bed with me.

"But we can't end up together," he said quietly. "We want different things. You want to have kids and I don't. I want to end up with an actress-- someone in my indsutry that I can build a career and a life with."

"Who's talking marriage?!" I laughed. "I don't want to marry you. In fact, if you asked, I'd say no!"

"Oh, that's real nice," he said, jealously. "You're in love with me, but you wouldn't marry me?"

"No. Because you're right-- we do want different things. But we're together at this moment in life, and for this moment in life I need some security and some protection. I'm not saying we'll stay together forever. I'm just saying that if we're together right now, it should be a real relationship."

"But if we're not going to end up together, we're going to have to date someone else eventually, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, we have to be able to be open to meet that person."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. So, if you meet someone that you think has real potential, then break up with me. Break up with me and then sleep with someone else. But you can't have it all at once. All this time, you've wanted to have your cake and eat it too. I've been trying to make it possible for you to do that. If I could keep giving you that, I would. This is not about me being moral or trying to be tough. I would give you what you want, if I could. But it's not possible anymore. I just can't emotinally sustain it anymore. I'm so tired."

"I never got that expression," he laughed. "Why can't you have your cake and eat it? Isn't that the whole point of having the cake?"

"No, Narc. If you eat the cake, you no longer have it on the plate. If you want it on the plate, you can't have eaten it. You can't have both."

"Oh."

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes.

"So, what are you asking me for? A commitment?"

"Yes. I'm asking you for a commitment. I can't do this otherwise."

"I don't know," he said. "I was kind of burned by my last girlfriend, if you recall."

"PopStar? Of course I recall! Do you know how much pain that put me through too? I was in love with you, and stayed by you while you were engaged to someone else. I came to the hospital for you every day when you were sick. I kept right on fucking you for eight months while you were going on about being in love with her."

"Yeah, well, I guess it was bad for everyone all around," he said.

We were both silent again.

"I just don't know what to do, Narc. Tell me what to do. Tell me to stay or tell me to go. Tell me. My therapist won't tell me what to do."

"Did you think he would?"

"No. But everyone who tells me what to do tells me something I don't want to hear."

"What do they tell you?"

"To end it. To stop seeing you. My friends... everyone. And everyone's sick of hearing about it. Everyone says-- he doesn't want a relatinoship with you; what are you doing still there? I can't answer them. And you don't give me anything to tell them, Narc. I feel so alone. I feel so fucking alone."

I felt like I might start to cry again, so I swallowed hard.

"Look, I don't want to lose you, Hyde. I love spending time with you," he said quietly. "Of course, I want you in my life."

"Well, I don't want to go. But, it's a matter of what it's worth to you... I can't do this anymore."

He didn't say anything.

"Shouldn't I be with someone who wants to be with me?" I asked. "Don't you think I deserve that?"

He just lay there staring at the ceiling. My head was on his chest.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he murmured. "I feel like I'm on The Moment of Truth or something."

"I'm not trying to pressure you, Narc. But I do need an answer. So, take a few days if you need to, but I DO need an answer."

He got up as if that were the end of the conversation. So, I just got up and got dressed too. We ordered in some food for lunch and watched Rock of Love on TV. I rehung the shelves that he had knocked down the night before and went across the street to get him Gatorade, Pepto Bismol and a protein shake for his hangover. And so, it was just as usual-- dumb TV and a lot of sex as the afternoon passed.

At around 3:00 PM, The Truman Show was on and I had to leave. I had to get home in time to shower, change my clothes and warm up before the recital.

"Don't forget everything that we said," I told him, as I leaned down for a hug goodbye.

"Yeah, we can talk about it," he answered.

"No. I don't want to talk about it. I just need an answer from you. I need a committment or I'm done. Sometime in the next few days."

"Guess I'll do a little soul-searching," he said with half a laugh.

"Okay. 'Cause really, Narc-- it's time to shit or get off the pot."

"Huh. Well, good luck with your thing tonight. Call me later."

Back at my place, I got dressed in a beautiful lace skirt and tight black top and in my red lip gloss, I felt beautiful, but it couldn't mask my emotional fatigue. My voice was low and I couldn't get all the support I needed. I felt depressed about having to sing in that condition, all the way on my way to the recital.

I sent Narc a text: "Feeling way, waaaay too tired to do this. Wish me luck! And may God give me adrenaline. At least I feel pretty in my clothes..."

"You can do it!!" he answered.

"Thanks. :)"

The recital itself was okay. I don't think I did as well as I did last time, but I didn't expect to. Even though I thought my performance was horribly mediocre, my teacher seemed pleased and all of the other students told me that I sounded great. Cherubino said that I'm way too hard on myself. So, I decided to believe them.

Aferwards, we all went back to my teacher's apartment for a little reception. One of her students, I recently found out, is someone else who went to Columbia and sang in the Opera Ensemble there. She was at the recpetion.

"Wow! It's been a long time," I said. "When's the last time we saw each other?"

"I don't know. I think my last semester with the group was actually that semseter that you got sick."

"When I got sick?"

"Yeah, you missed the concert because you had to go to the hospital," she explained. "Remember?"

"Oh! That's right," I laughed. "That was a difficult time. December, '98."

Meanwhile, what was I really doing that I missed the concert? Sitting in jail, under arrest for buying coke, two days before my 20th birthday. Ugh!! So weird to have that come back to me like that!

Anyway, while at that little reception, I got another text from Narc: "How was your recital? Was going to head up to you but haven't heard anything yet. What's up?"

I was surprised that he wanted to see me again, in the middle of all of this, and that he wanted to come to my place. Maybe he is afraid of losing me, after all. In any case, I told him that I would be home by 10:00 PM. He met me in the lobby. I was still all dressed up, but had switched from heels to flip flops.

I froze my ass off in those flip flops as we walked up Second Avenue to find a pub. Narc wanted "bangers and mash." So, we ate a little dinner, he sipped a pint of Guinness, and then we came back to my place. I played some God of War with his guidance, and then I cleaned up the apartment a bit. We tried to watch The Tudors in bed, but both of us were falling asleep.

This morning, we woke up, fucked, watched the rest of The Tudors and ordered in lunch. I wanted to go through and organize my bills, so he helped me devise a system. He is one of the most organized people I've ever met. Then, I listened to the end of Phantom of the Opera (which had come up in an earlier conversation ) and I told him that I'm still in love with the Phantom. He read a Britney article in an old issue of Rolling Stone that I had laying around.

At 5:30, we both took off for class-- he to his tarot school and I to my research seminar.

"Which card are you guys studying tonight? I asked.

He didn't know the answer.

On my way home, I had a sudden urge to find an AA meeting, so I wandered over to the "Mustard Seed"-- a place where they have pretty much non-stop meetings all day. There was a women's meeting that was almost over. I found a seat and recognized two women there from other meetings I've been to. I think I need to start going to a weekly women's meeting again. Just catching the tail end of the meeting, it prodded me not to forget that I have to take care of myself and respect myself if I am really choosing this spiritual life.

I want to be wanted.

When I left the meeting, I called Bezouhoff and we talked for a while.

Anyway, at around 11:00 PM tonight, I sent Narc another text: "So, which card was it?"

I was suddenly filled with fear again-- fear that he was meeting up with LA-Girl. I know that he met her on a Monday night once before.

If he doesn't answer you, he's with her, I told myself.

Stop thinking like this, I told myself. Stop obsessing. You don't know what's going on and you can't control it.

He wrote back five minutes later: "Queen and King of Swords. Back to major arcana next week with the Lovers. Received an incredible reading from the man himself as well, most impressive."

Okay, so he's not with her, I thought.

I sent another text: Really? What did the reading say?

He didn't answer that one.

Why not? I wondered. Maybe he IS with her. No... then, why would he have answered the first one? Maybe he answered the first text because he didn't want you to know he's with her. No... that's paranoid, Hyde. He probably just didn't answer this last one because he didn't want to get into it. Yeah, but still... he could have just said that he didn't want to get into it. Why did he just disappear? Maybe he's sick of hanging out. Geez-- you've just seen him non-stop! Aren't you sick of seeing him? Yes... Yes, I am. I don't want to talk or hang out tonight. I just want to know that he's not with her.

I just want to know.

Only, I can't know. I can't know anything.

Do I really think I can have any measure of control?

What do I do next? Has the bridge been crossed? ("So stand and watch it burn...")

What do I do next?

love,
h